


a most vehement flame

by Bushwah



Series: we the clay [12]
Category: Fake AH Crew (Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Cults, Alternate Universe - Grand Theft Auto Setting, Asphyxiation, Bets & Wagers, Boxing & Fisticuffs, Celebrity Crush, Consent Issues, Corpse Desecration, Corruption, Cuckolding, Daddy Kink, Date Rape, Dissociation, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Exhibitionism, Face-Fucking, Flirting, Gang Violence, Gaslighting, Gun Kink, Gun Violence, Humiliation, Hybristophilia, Ignored Safeword, Immortal Fake AH Crew, Intimidation, Jealousy, Kink Negotiation, Kink Shaming, Knife Throwing, Knife Violence, Knifeplay, Leather Kink, M/M, Making Out, Masturbation Interruptus, Murder Kink, Necrophilia, No Safeword, Non-Consensual Blow Jobs, Objectification, Panic Attacks, Possessive Behavior, Rape Fantasy, Sadism, Serial Killers, Sexual Fantasy, Slurs, Stalking, Temporary Character Death, Under-negotiated Kink, Victim Blaming, betrayal kink, death by hanging, domfighting, enthusiasm but not consent, fear kink, fucked to death, information security, the moment of clarity after an orgasm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-05
Updated: 2020-04-05
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:47:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23488585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bushwah/pseuds/Bushwah
Summary: Jeremy had a great time fighting the Vagabond.Ryan is very curious about the mysterious man named Jay who he'd never met until he challenged him to a friendly fight.(Spoilers: they bang.)
Relationships: Gavin Free/Ryan Haywood, Jeremy Dooley/Gavin Free, Jeremy Dooley/Ryan Haywood, Ryan Haywood/Michael Jones
Series: we the clay [12]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1643119
Comments: 6
Kudos: 37





	a most vehement flame

**Author's Note:**

> This is an FPF fic based exclusively on the Fake AH Crew lore as set forth by Rooster Teeth Productions. This work owes an additional debt of thanks to Wren wrenseroticlibrary.tumblr.com and their collab partner Threatie alastair-made-me-undo-it.tumblr.com, posting collaboratively as Wrespawn on the AO3, for their contributions to the FAHC fandom.
> 
> All major characters in this series are abusive, in that they use abuse tactics in conducting their relationships. However, the degree of trauma they inflict depends on a variety of factors, within and outside their control. Abusive acts committed from a position of extreme power, such as Jack's control over the respawn machine (regarding the crew) or the other Fakes' access to it (regarding outsiders), are both particularly damaging and particularly unjustifiable.
> 
> Literally all the consent practices depicted in this fic are terrible, but special shout-out to Ryan for making consent checks into a weapon against Jeremy's autonomy.
> 
> The slurs used in this fic (freak, punk, and variants on faggot) appear in fetishized, aggressive, and reclamatory contexts.

Jeremy kinda can't believe he got out of that alive.

Like, obviously he can, if he'd actually thought he was going to die he wouldn't have done it, but fuck. He fought the Vagabond. He beat Mogar. The Vagabond challenged Mogar over _him_.

The Vagabond asked him for his number.

Obviously it's not _that_ , Jeremy doesn't have any evidence the Vagabond's even into men. But he'd asked, and Jeremy had given it.

“We'll set up contact later today,” the Vagabond had said. Jeremy has his phone volume on and is checking the screen anyway. He kinda wants to take a shower, but it can wait.

Fuck, it was a good fight. Good fights. He thinks back to the moment he got the choke on Mogar, and hears Mogar's voice like he's right there in the room: “You the kind of freak that gets hard when somebody steps on your face?”

At the time it'd stung, though he'd tried to brush it off. But fuck yeah he is, and he goes back further to when he really was getting his face stepped on. God he fought the Vagabond and lived and the Vagabond looked at him like he was deciding whether to _let_ him tap and _god_ he wants to do it again. He wants to get fucking hurt, he wants the Vagabond to go hard with him, he wants the Vagabond to pin him down and _fuck_ him.

That at least isn't going to happen, but a guy can dream, yeah? He flashes back to the moment he'd released Mogar and realized that the Vagabond had a gun on him, and the lazy amusement in his eyes.

“C'mere, squirt,” the Vagabond says in his fantasy and Jeremy's cheeks go hot, his hands raised again (like the Vagabond would _ever_ see him as a threat) and the Vagabond beckons him closer and closer until Jeremy's cringing away from him but the Vagabond doesn't _care_ , just puts a rough strong hand on his shoulder and pushes, “on your knees, boy.”

Jeremy's looking up and the Vagabond is still pointing the gun at him and he flinches and the Vagabond laughs at him—or, no, that's Mogar, watching casually leaned against the wall of the alley—and Jeremy doesn't know if this is humiliation or something more personal until the Vagabond undoes his pants and he's already half hard, and—

God that's an image. The Vagabond still has on his fucking _mask_ but his dick is out and Jeremy's got his hand around the shaft and the Vagabond grabs his head with the hand that's not holding the gun and yanks him in and he's got the Vagabond's dick in his mouth and the Vagabond's saying to Mogar over his head “Yeah, that's better. Wanted to do that to the little punk since the moment I heard his faggy voice.”

And Jeremy's faggy voice isn't saying anything 'cause the Vagabond is fucking his face, which, it takes two to fag, but God, he can hear Mogar saying that, “You sure you know which one of you's the faggot” and the Vagabond says “yeah, genius, it's the one being fucked” and Jeremy's hand is sneaking down to touch his dick and Mogar laughs again “look, he likes it, he really is a freak.”

And he kinda wants to linger on that image for hours because _fuck_ but also he wants more stimulation so he changes the scene, what if he got the drop on the Vagabond, like Mogar had said, you a fag or this a friendly match, what if a fight and the winner gets to fuck the loser, the Vagabond didn't even bring lube 'cause he was sure he was going to win so Jeremy made him beg and now he's fingering him and the Vagabond's scared of him, humiliated by him, 'cause he fucking won, and now the Vagabond just has to _take_ it—

Footsteps, outside the bedroom door. Jeremy's already pulling his blanket up to cover his dick when he remembers he doesn't live with his parents anymore.

_Shit._

He thinks for a moment about why someone might have chosen today to break into his house and pulls his pants up, stuffing his boner awkwardly under his waistband. He checks his phone: nope. Vagabond's not going to save his ass this time.

Like any sensible resident of Los Santos, Jeremy has a gun. He eases open the drawer next to his bed and skips over the lube to grab the pistol. He's fired it, but never for real. Never at a person.

That's about to change.

His heart beats faster. He swings off the bed, trying to be quiet. He doesn't want the intruder to know he knows they're there. His other hand ( _the one not holding the gun_ ) adjusts his dick in his pants.

He pads up to the door, holding the gun high. His finger's on the trigger guard, ready to slip inside. He takes a deep, careful breath, exhales, and opens the door.

* * *

Ryan patches Gavin in as soon as Jay is out of sight.

“What's up, Vaggy?” the Golden Boy says brightly.

Ryan doesn't sigh. “I've got a job for you.” Michael's mounting his motorcycle again, and Ryan joins him. “There's a guy I want you to find.”

There's a scuffling at the other end of the line, Gavin getting out his keyboard. “Sure thing. Male presenting, in the city. Any other information? Kilo's fifty percent of pop right now.”

“He gave his name as Jay,” Michael pipes up from the front. “That's classic bullshit, though. Might not even be his real initial.”

“I have his _phone number_.”

The others go mercifully quiet while Ryan reads it out.

“Got it?”

Ryan can hear Gavin typing, but Gavin doesn't answer for a bit, and when he does it's a distracted “yeah.” Ryan's satisfied that by the time he gets home Gavin will have the kid's home address and the name of his childhood pet. He turns off the com.

He doesn't really care where Michael goes as long as Michael doesn't try to get out of his sight. Michael doesn't seem interested in anything complicated, though. He just takes Ryan home, and doesn't object when the Vagabond signals him to go in first.

Ryan follows Michael all the way to the door of Gavin's room. As far as Ryan knows Michael still hasn't asked to move out. Jack would almost certainly allow it, but Ryan's not gonna be the one to tell him.

Michael does his complicated dance of “I'm not going to turn my back on you while I get the door between us” and Ryan watches with tolerant amusement. He gets a good enough look inside in the process that he's pretty sure Gavin isn't in there.

Ah well, Golden Boy will get back to him eventually. He always does. For now, he has Jay's number. He's already programmed it into his com, and he wanders away from the golden door as he patches the kid in.

* * *

Ryan's almost to his own room when the kid picks up. Took longer than he thought it would. A landline?

“Hello?” Jay says, sounding scared. Heh. Maybe he's realized something about what a terrible idea it was to give his number to the Vagabond.

“Yeah?” Ryan replies. Might as well give the kid enough rope to hang himself with.

(He takes a moment to savor that image. Fuck, he'd look good scrabbling at his neck as the noose closed in. A little more of a drop first and it'd be quick...)

“Can anyone hear us?”

That's supposed to be his line. “Nope,” he says. Technically the LSPD _could_ , but then they might have to do something about it, and Ryan's pretty sure that's enough of a deterrent. What are they going to do, arrest the Vagabond? He'd like to see them try.

“O-okay,” the kid says, as if to himself. Fuck, he's freaked out. “Okay, uh. I have a problem.”

“Somebody bothering you?” Ryan's a little surprised news got down the grapevine _that_ fast. Jay's only claim to fame, as far as he knows, is the incident earlier today, and being affiliated with the Fakes mostly just makes people run away from you really fast.

“No. Well—yeah, no, different...” The kid audibly swallows, takes a deep breath, and says, “I killed a man.”

That's not what Ryan expected to hear.

“He broke into my house,” Jay says into the silence, like he thinks Ryan's mad at him, like he thinks this could be something other than the best fucking news he's had all week. “I thought you might, uh. Have an idea for what to do with the body?”

Ryan _does_. He growls softly, and Jay squeaks. “How did you kill him?” the Vagabond asks.

“S-shot him with a handgun,” Jay says, “oh god, I can see his brains. He's dead.”

Personally Ryan doesn't think that last bit was necessary, but the picture that's coming together is still fucking hot—Jay standing over a corpse, _panicking_ , gets a call from the Vagabond and maybe is actually _relieved_ —

“Where are you?”

“I—I'm at home,” Jay says nonsensically.

Ryan sighs. “You want me to deal with a corpse,” he reminds the kid. “Step one is telling me where I can find it.”

He doesn't actually need the kid to tell him, he could just wait until Golden Boy gets his shit together and texts him the info, but he likes the idea of the kid having given him his address _voluntarily_. Jay's digging his own grave and Ryan's into it.

Sure enough, the kid recognizes the logic of Ryan's argument and gives the address. Inside city limits, closer to downtown than where Ryan had met him.

“That wasn't so hard, was it?” Ryan says, deliberately condescending. “Close the blinds and sit tight. Daddy's got you covered.”

* * *

Despite Ryan's warning, the kid's waiting for him outside, tapping nervously at his phone. Ryan gets out of the sleek black sports car and strides up to him.

Jay looks up when Ryan gets close, jumps back when Ryan keeps coming. He stands his ground after that, though. Kid's brave. Ryan stands over him for a moment—he's a pint-size fucker, but he's not young enough that it's anything but genetics—then takes a step back to let the guy breathe.

“Vagabond?” Jay asks quietly.

Ryan draws a knife, spins it on his finger, and sheathes it again without breaking eye contact. This close, Ryan can _see_ him swallow.

“Yeah,” Jay says. “Uh—okay.”

Is he _blushing_?

“Guess you might as well come in,” he rambles, starting toward the door. Ryan follows right behind him, clearly too close for Jay to be comfortable, but to his credit, the guy doesn't walk faster.

Jay unlocks the door. Ryan's pretty sure it wasn't locked, but he still puts the key in the lock and everything. Smart move. Pity it had to be while he was letting the Vagabond into his home.

Ryan half considers dragging Jay into his own bedroom and taking him _right now_ —on top of everything else the boy just killed someone—but no, no, he should at least have a look at the body first.

Jay opens the door hesitantly, revealing the body, and Ryan laughs.

Next to him, Jay jumps, then pouts. Ryan's laugh dies down, though a smile still tugs at the corner of his mouth. Slumped on the carpet is the bloodied corpse of Gavin Free.

He's a fucking sight. Jeremy's right, his brains have gotten on the carpet. That's gonna be a bear to clean. More notable, though, is the very obvious evidence that somebody came on his face.

Ryan steps closer. Looks like it happened after the gunshot. He turns to Jay, smiling, ready to say something lightly mocking, but Jay looks terrified, like he's done something so unacceptable that the Vagabond is going to execute him then and there, and there's nothing Ryan can do but push him back against the wall and kiss him.

Jay's first reaction is to grab his ass and pull him closer, which, Ryan's not about to complain, but he has a better idea. He hoists Jay up so his legs are around Ryan's waist and Ryan's got his weight settled close in, their bodies pressed together. Jay groans encouragement and Ryan breaks the kiss and ducks down to bite his neck.

He likes that too, because he's fucking perfect, grabbing Ryan's shoulders and arching his neck like he wants _more_ and fuck, Ryan's not about to deny him. “Bedroom?” he asks, and Jay lifts his head and looks around before pointing at a green door. Ryan traces the sightlines—that's where the gunshot had come from.

Fuck, Jay really killed a man and jerked off on his corpse without even knowing he was immortal. Gavin's gonna flip his shit when he realizes what he's missed. Ryan grins and kisses his Jay again. It's a good day.

* * *

The Vagabond tumbles Jeremy into bed still kissing him. Jeremy's dick is taking a minute to get with the program but the rest of his body is fully engaged and holy fuck he's kissing the _Vagabond_. The Vagabond's hand swipes through his hair, brushing it back roughly; his other hand is on Jeremy's ass.

“You're wearing too many clothes,” the Vagabond growls.

“So are you,” Jeremy says breathlessly.

The Vagabond grins, showing teeth. “Let's fix that, yeah?”

He's drawing a knife and Jeremy flinches a little before the excitement catches back up, wow, the Vagabond is going to cut off his clothes, okay, that's—that's not hot at all and he definitely hasn't fantasized about this specific situation and who the fuck is he kidding and when is he going to wake up. 

But this is happening, the Vagabond has the knife angled away from his skin (which is probably good, even though one part of Jeremy's brain is screaming _do it fucking cut me_ and another part is dispassionately noting that the Vagabond is cutting toward himself, which is not good knife safety) and is destroying his shirt, the Vagabond gathers the fabric of the front of the shirt in one hand and cuts deft and quick with the other and Jeremy's torso is bare against the Vagabond's leather jacket as the Vagabond kisses him again.

The Vagabond is holding a knife on him and its proximity to his neck should be concerning but the adrenaline and the arousal are combining to make Jeremy lightheaded and he groans into the kiss, grinding his hips up against the Vagabond's, and _yeah_ his dick is taking an interest in the proceedings now. Has been since the knife came out, actually. That probably says things about his priorities, but realizations later, getting laid now.

And he sure is getting laid. The Vagabond is sitting up, still straddling him, to take off his jacket and then his shirt. Jeremy tries to sit up too, get back to the fun part, but the Vagabond rocks his hips and that shuts him up, wow the Vagabond is sitting on his dick and was kissing him and is going to fuck him.

The knife isn't in the Vagabond's hand anymore and Jeremy gets a split second to be concerned before he's being pinned down with a hand on his chest right by the shoulder.

“Do you have lube?”

The Vagabond says it like it's a threat, and Jeremy responds automatically. “'Course I have lube, I'm a faggot.”

“If that's how you want to play it.” The Vagabond digs his fingertips roughly into the joint and smiles when Jeremy winces. “Where do you keep your lube, _fag_?”

“Top drawer,” Jeremy says, giving the bedside table as meaningful a look as he can without moving. The Vagabond leans over and fishes the lube out. For whatever fucking reason _that's_ making Jeremy embarrassed, but the Vagabond looks back at him with lust in his eyes and Jeremy knows what to do with that.

It's bodies tangled up with each other in increasingly pleasant configurations. The Vagabond fucks like he fights: probably going easy on him, but damn, that's not saying much. At some point the knife finds its way back into the Vagabond's hand and Jeremy's so far gone he just kisses him again, bites the Vagabond's lip, if this is going to be the last sex he ever has at least he'll have gone out with a bang—

The orgasm hits him like a thunderclap. It's _fucking_ good, the Vagabond still pounding him while he strokes his dick between them fuck fuck fuck _yes_. His head falls back, his hand dropping to his side. Sex is still happening, but it can go on without him. He's fried.

Hang on. Fuck. That's the Vagabond fucking him.

The Vagabond is holding a knife to his neck.

There's a corpse in the other room.

_Fuck._

* * *

Ryan's always liked to get off his victims. Jay, he's pleased to note, is no exception. Having a body trembling under him makes him hungry to _complete_ the picture, slash Jay's throat (it would feel so _good_ , the only thing better than a man coming on his cock is a man _dying_ on it) and take two bodies home with him.

But Ryan... doesn't want this to be over. He hasn't even seen Jay kill yet.

He isn't _done_.

Jay is coming back to himself, aware enough to be scared again, and that's fucking _hot_. Ryan wants to keep it up, maybe get the kid to struggle for him, make him scream. But Ryan knows himself well enough to know that if he leaves the knife in play, Jay isn't going to survive the night.

He feels himself smile. He can still have fun with it.

“Changed your mind?” he asks Jay. Jay shakes his head, not meeting Ryan's eyes.

Ryan laughs, holding up the knife. He spins it on his finger, like he had outside when Jay was pretending not to know who he was. He _feels_ the potential to grasp it with his fist around the hilt and drive it down—

But no. No, he isn't going to do that.

Instead he grips it lengthways, picks a target—kid has a fucking Vagabond poster, okay—throws, and watches it _thunk_ into his double, where the heart should be.

Jay doesn't need the poster anyway, not when he has the Vagabond in his bed.

He looks back to Jay, who, adorably, seems to have actually gotten _more_ scared of him. Ryan grins and rakes his nails down the guy's side. “You killed a man,” he reminds him, and Jay shudders, closing his eyes. Ryan shakes him—Jay's not going to escape this, not even into his own head.

“You killed a man and you _liked_ it. It's a little late to be getting cold feet now, huh, Jay?” Fuck, the look on his face. “Are you going to try to tell me it was a one-off? That you're never going to come like that again? I know you better than that.” Ryan bites Jay's neck and Jay whines.

“You know what the kill feels like now,” he says, the words falling into place. He's never tried to describe this before, never found someone who was like him and hadn't already made their choices. “You know, and you're not going to stop. Just like me.”

The Vagabond comes.

**Author's Note:**

> Song 8:6.


End file.
